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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761180">DAPG: Golf With Friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes'>Fictropes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Gaming Channel, M/M, unhinged?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:00:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What?” Phil shrugs, then his brain catches up with him. “I mean—you know!” He makes a hand gesture that means literally nothing at all. “Golf with friends, with my singular friend.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>DAPG: Golf With Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i rewatched all of golf with friends and then keelin told me there was a space level on golf with friends and i just... wnat 2 see it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello, Dan and Phil Games hiatus… i’s? Is? People we haven’t seen in a long time!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well.” Dan snorts. “That was crap, good to know we’re still really terrible at this. Two years to come up with a hello, and we immediately fuck it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop—no swearing. No swearing on the channel anymore, I forgot how hard it was to edit you.” Phil whines, because he’d agreed to that earlier. To edit whilst Dan does the final few bits to his book, makes sure it’s not filled with a billion and one bad bits of advice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You love editing me so much, it’s like—your passion in life, it’s why you became a youtuber. Just some personal time alone with Danny clips.” Dan waggles his eyebrows, and it’ll get cut but that’s fine—he just likes winding Phil up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s already, god, that’s like two minutes of extra work already.” Phil boots up the game, and it’s probably not what the people were expecting, but it’s what they’re going to get. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A sims video right now, especially one involving a wedding, seems like a bit too much. And they don’t want to drop hints they’re not actually willing to give. So Phil boots up his Mac, and Dan boots up the gaming pc with the clacky keyboard that Phil hates with a passion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Today we’re playing with some balls.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You literally couldn’t have phrased that any other way? Like—no other way at all?” Dan asks, all wide-eyed, all <em>this guy. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Phil shrugs, then his brain catches up with him. “I mean—you know!” He makes a hand gesture that means literally nothing at all. “Golf with friends, with my singular friend.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s really all accidentally, this suggestive shit Phil comes out with during these videos. In real life it’s quite calculated, in real life he knows exactly what he’s saying whenever he says it. But for some reason, you stick him in front of a camera and he turns into<em> Mr Accidental Innuendo. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yup, you heard it here first… or last, cos this update came out like seventy years ago. But there’s a new level, and it’s a spacey boy.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Balls in space? Is that a thing? Is that anything? A movie?” Phil asks, tapping that stupid golf hat that he insisted on taking to the new place. Dan’s surprised it’s still in tact, that all the green astroturf hadn’t shed in the box all over their bedding. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could be a thing.” Dan shrugs, spins in his chair so their knees bump. And he’d missed this, honestly more than he ever thought he would. Because it’s work, but it’s still—just spending time with Phil. It’s still just being stupid, still giggling over things that aren't even that funny. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ok! I’ll—i’m making a note, no one steal our space balls movie.”Phil pretends to scribble it down on a piece of paper, and Dan is two seconds away from launching him across the room because he’d definitely just drawn a line on their brand new desk. Dan’s baby, Dan’s precious little gamer set-up, Dan’s <em>oh god maybe i’ll fuck around on twitch </em>fantasy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop it! You fiend, you’re—“ And he tries to snatch it away, but Phil’s apparently decided today is the day to get cat-like reflexes. He moves first, stabs Dan with the nib<em> accidentally. </em>“Well, there you have it, end of the video. I have to go to hospital for ink poisoning.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not even a thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if it is actually a thing? And you’ve just killed me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well then I’ll carpet the whole house like I wanted to.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Phil!” Dan screeches, and he’s glad this house is secluded, that no neighbours can hear them. He’s reasonably allowed to scream as loud as he wants, and the only person who can complain is Phil—and that’s never stopped Dan before.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Phil asks, all innocent and light and—smirking because he can’t help it. This whole winding the other up business goes both ways, and Phil’s maybe even better at it than Dan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god, we’ve been filming for seven minutes and we’ve not even actually opened the game.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oooo, bold colour choice. Very threatening to burn out my retinas.” Dan blinks a few times, over the top and exaggerated. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s good!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you say so buddy.” Dan foregoes the brightness, drags the sliders until his ball is just white. “I’m going for classic today.” He snorts, pretending to push a pair of glasses up his nose. “Because i’m a true golf professional.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shutup, loser. You’re not even wearing a shirt with a fancy collar.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, didn’t wanna get my guns out like you. What are you? Showing off? Being a peacock for the audience?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll peacock your mum.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Allllllrighty.” Dan claps his hands together. “And on that note, we should probably actually start.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the room name again?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Notonedirection. Get it? Get it?” Dan asks, elbowing Phil until he sees him roll his eyes in the monitor. “Cos we’re actually back off hiatus.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I get it!” Phil relents, after the fifth elbow to the rib. “We are back off hiatus, sort of. Is this a one off? Was this just cos we love hitting some balls?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If we keep talking about balls, people are going to start thinking we’re gay.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil giggles at that, and Dan preens. Because it’s been eleven years, but making Phil laugh is still top priority on Dan’s list of things to do every day.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gay, did you not know?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, really?” Dan gasps, hand to his chest. “Me too. What a coinky-dink. Gay homeowners, with a gay mortgage. Who’d have actually thunk it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” Phil murmurs, distracted when the game finally loads up. “You’re literally inside me.” Phil’s squinting at the screen, for some reason having foregone both glasses and contact lenses. Something about packing them up accidentally in a box that’s definitely at the bottom of the pile, and it’s fine because the screen will be super close to his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So? You were literally inside me last night, it’s only fair.” Dan says, because he can’t help.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God. Stop it, you awful boy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it not true?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah—but.” He points at the camera. “They don’t need to know that.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not? Let’s open up the top and bottom debate again, twenty-twelve was such a vibe.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop.” Phil demands, entire face scrunched up like a disgruntled little rat. “Be calm. Be zen. Stop talking about my penis inside of you, instead let’s get some balls inside some holes.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I so wish we could keep that in.” Dan sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no, no. Shit!” Dan slams his hands against the desk, puts on a brave face—it actually really fucking hurt. “I forgot how much of a train wreck this game was. I didn’t even touch the ball.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eat my ball dust!” Phil lets out a little victory cheer as he gets a birdie, and for once Dan wishes collision was on because he totally would’ve got smacked in the whole by Phil’s ball.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No one likes a gloater, read the comments. They all think you’re evil.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Erm—no?” Phil argues. “You’re evil, you’re so evil for beating me and not even pretending to let me win.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would that work for you?” Dan asks, finally, finally getting the ball in the hole after seven attempts. Hole three and he’s somehow already behind by nine. “If I let you, like, get a pity win. Would you still feel the same amount of victory as a normal actual win?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Obviously, should’ve expected that.” Dan laughs.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god, what is that?” Phil points at the screen, watching a dancing little planet. “I wanna live there, can we go live on the moon.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Erm—Phil, you whined about how much effort it took to move in here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Phil frowns. “I just—boxes are heavy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shutup. Your turn.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil smacks it backwards, somehow.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no! That didn’t count, you distracted me!” Phil looks two seconds away from sabotaging Dan—can see the plan forming in his boyfriends stupid evil brain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you touch my mouse, I will obliterate you.” Dan warns, flinging his arm out to form a protective barrier. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can just gnaw through your arm.” Phil shrugs, leaning in and pretending to do just that—<em>always </em>with the biting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you? A fucking beaver?” Dan laughs. “Ew! You actually just spat on me, get away, you fiend.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no.” Phil deadpans. “It’s not like you’ve literally asked me to spit in your mouth before.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan sort of explodes with that, a noise that he’s never made before leaving his body. Shock? A laugh? A cry? A mixture of all three? “Fuck off, now you’re the one making extra editing work.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but it was worth it to hear whatever that just was.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just—go play with your balls and leave me alone.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is literally giving me motion sickness.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s weird, right? Imagine if you went to a golf place and they were just like—oh, y’know that. That’s just our spinning circle of death, now just walk through it.” Dan’s been trying to do just that for the last four strokes in a row, but every time it bounces off the edge and gets yeeted into space—literally.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t believe how far behind you are. God, i’m so good at everything.” Phil isn’t even that far ahead, Dan can literally see his ball in front of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ok.” Dan’s face does thatthing, where he looks like he’s ninety-nine percent mouth. “You’re only just ahead so, don’t get too cocky.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t get— oh! An alien. Do you think there are gay aliens?” Phil asks, letting go off his mouse and, once again, getting rid of all that good camera angle action. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Obviously.” Dan answers, with half an eye roll—more a straight up side-eye, if anything. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t obviously me, Howell.” Phil pokes a finger into his dimple, and Dan thinks that they’ll keep that in. It’s nothing major, but it’s something. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If they’ve been watching us all this time, then they’ve obviously seen all the gay shiz and thought… oh, I wanna get in on the action.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would you be upset if I left you for something green with tentacles?” Phil asks, just as he hits the ball into the hole. And now they’ll have to do a whole weird cut that doesn’t make any sense.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Dan answers, without missing a beat. “I think i’d actually respect you for it. But shutup, you just forced us to cut out your par.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who says i’m cutting that out?” Phil asks, meeting Dan’s eye on the monitor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are—no?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll see how we feel when we get there.” Phil says.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What hole we on?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Errmm.. eight?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right, fuck, I'm still seven behind. Stop talking about gay aliens.” It’s Dan’s turn to go first, and he screams as he goes down a sneaky little ledge and into the water. “Shit, bollocks, shit. That’s illegal, i’m suing this game for hurting my feelings.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeee!” Phil smacks his ball harder, goes right over the gap but—“No!” He bounces straight off the wall, joins Dan in the weird space sea. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Told you about getting cocky.” Dan says, ironically very cockily. “But, no, you never listen to Daniel.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I listened to the part in your book—no, no. Spoilers.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ooooo.” Dan smiles, genuinely a bit—overwhelmed. Because he hasn’t been the one to bring it up, but Phil had thought to. Phil was proud, and sometimes that caught Dan entirely off guard. “Was that a free cheeky little spon?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe.” Phil shrugs, all coy. “Maybe not. Just saying it’s a very good book, and if i’m willing to listen then… that’s gotta mean something.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan smashes into Phil’s ball, sends it straight into the sea. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I take it back. Your book is rubbish, and you don’t even know more than—three words.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope, I have you on camera saying my book is so sexy.” Dan grins, raises his eyebrows over and over until Phil pushes at his chair in an attempt to get him to stop. “Sexy, sexy book.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No—it’s made out of trees.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Dan laughs. “So is literally every other book.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shush.” Phil holds his finger up to his lips, then to Dan’s, back to his own, back to Dans who’s ready for it this time. Grabs his wrist. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You gonna stop being weird?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thought not.” Dan gives him a little squeeze, then drops his hold. “You’re so far away from the hole. Oh no, oh dear. Looks like your lead is down the toilet. Oh dear.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No one likes an evil winner, Daniel.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you ever actually going to say any saying right? Or is this—like this is my curse. I have to listen to you say things wrong for the rest of my life.” And it was supposed to be an insult, but the smile on Phil’s face tells Dan he’s just latched onto the assured way Dan had said <em>rest of my life. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Want me to cut that out?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no—that can stay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re on hole fifteen, and it’s just absolute carnage. They seem to be meeting each other at every single point, seem to have been on the same score for the last five rounds. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If one of us doesn’t lose right now then i’m— i’m deleting the whole game. For everyone. No one can ever play this game again. It’s homophobic.” Phil’s ball rolls down the little hill, settles down right next to Dan’s.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bro.” Dan starts. “It’s just how it’s meant to be, our balls together.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No? Why? Can’t you see, it’s their destiny.” And maybe he sings the last part, and maybe no one else will ever bear witness to that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s like they’re magnetically pulled together!” Phil even tries to go another way, but it still loops back round and crashes into Dan’s,</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Our balls are supercharged to hold onto one another.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That doesn’t even make sense!” Phil whines. “I hate balls now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh—oh no.” Dan laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In a golf way, not in a gay way.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bit too much info there, but thanks so much.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan’s the first to actually reach the hole, and Phil follows in right behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Next time we can’t look at each other’s screens, it’s messing everything up.” Phil goes as far as dramatically turning his chair around, but Dan knows that’ll only last about half a second. It does. The minute Phil realises Dan is going first he turns straight back around. “Later. I just need—to cheat.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Watch my juicy balls!” Phil zooms on by, and it’s like he’s fucking hacked into the mainframe of the game because there should be no way—on earth—that a hole in one is attainable on the second to last hole.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Firstly, never fucking say juicy balls again. I think i’m literally scarred for life.” Dan isn’t even playing up to the camera, it’d genuinely hurt his feelings. “Secondly that was obviously a glitch and we have to start the game again.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Phil answers immediately, folding his arms over his chest, not even relenting a tiny bit when Dan starts poking and prodding at him. “It’s not my fault i’m the chosen one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, shutup. Idiot.” Dan turns his attention back to his own screen, where he’s somehow sat on one of the rings of Saturn. “I don’t actually think anyone is supposed to be up here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So we both glitched and you can’t be moany about it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This isn’t the same!” Dan protests. “Your glitch basically just won you the game, and my glitch means i’m stuck until the time literally runs out cos it won’t let me go anywhere.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil shrugs. “It’s not my fault i’m the chosen one.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t even make it up.” Phil giggles, properly gleeful about the greatest swindle of the century. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shutup. I’m finishing the game, i don’t care.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan is fifteen behind, and even if his entire body was taken over by…someone good at golf, he still wouldn’t win.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is so sad, i’m so sad for you.” Phil leans over, digs his chin into Dan’s shoulder. And he doesn’t know if that’ll stay in the video, but he’s in the sort of mood where he wants it to. He can feel Phil’s breath on his neck, and he’s glad this video is nearly over.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so fucking evil, everyone thinks oh—Phil, he’s so cute and innocent. But no. You literally live to bully me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not my fault i’m a genius, this is because you refused to take the golf club dress code seriously.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re literally not wearing trousers.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shutup!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So… I win.” Phil grins, flailing his head back and forth so the ball on his head spins—nearly takes Dan’s eye out. “And I think that’s a fitting return, it was always supposed to be me who wins.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Written in the stars, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” Phil agrees. “Just like something else.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh. Oh, god.” Dan whines, buries his face in his hands. “Don’t be soppy.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t help it, first video in the new house!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dan wheels closer, catches Phil’s chin. And it’s too tempting to kiss him, a constant hazard in Dan’s life. If Phil is near, the chances are Dan is thinking about his mouth. It’s just a brief thing, well, supposed to be. Turns into a bit of a two minute kiss that’s bound to lead somewhere else.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just tell them bye.” Dan murmurs. “Then we’ll go do something else in our house.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They return a little bit more red-cheeked, Dan’s hair a bit more wild than it had been. But the promise makes Phil speed up the whole process, and Dan has to hold in laughter as he watches Phil rush through a <em>bye guys.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And maybe he spons Dan’s book one more time, points everyone towards a link in the description. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/640334078111023104/dapg-golf-with-friends-complete-3001-t-what">if u wanna rebloggy on tumblr, i always appreciate it!</a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>beta reader keelin said i was on somethign whilst writing this but i think it's just the vibe of all the golf with friends videos actually </p><p>as alllways lemme know what you think!</p><p>(and if u don't follow me on tumblr, i will just say it here, but you come and go has been deleted because obviously what phil told us about norman :( this week )</p></blockquote></div></div>
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